


Wake the Melancholics

by rufusrant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguity, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, M/M, MWPP, Marauders' Era, Mild Sexual Content, References to the Beatles, Surreal, a sort of Sputnik Sweetheart AU, crazy stuff happens, light fluffy smut, they love each other!, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufusrant/pseuds/rufusrant
Summary: Sirius has questionable nights and Remus seems to be at the root of it all.





	1. The Unknown, D Minor

Late into their first night in fourth year, during a game of Gobstones with James, Peter pulled out his new muggle record player to show off, along with some vinyls. James held the paper record holder at arm’s length, his nose scrunched up, trying to push up his glasses. 

“The… Beatles?” James laughed while plucking the disc out halfway. “Spelling mistake right there!“

Peter snorted. “Their music’s good. And it’s _not_ a spelling mistake, Evans said so herself-”

“Evans?”

“Yeah. I borrowed all these from her. All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“I _always_ ask nicely, Pete!” retorted James, his face slightly tighter. He handed the disc to Peter. “Put it on, I want to listen.”

A drum beat filled the dorm, followed by the twang of strings. Sirius clicked his tongue in time to the rhythm, staring at the ceiling. They were supposed to have been asleep ages ago and the moonlight was glaring silver through their window, singling them out; as if to say there would be consequences if they didn’t go to bed right this instant. Remus sat next to him, staring at a book in his hands. The book was shut and upside-down, but Sirius made no comment. 

The music turned weighed-down. The tune shot out of the disc, took a bow, slow-danced with each of the boys, kissed their heads, and scarpered away quick. Sirius flung himself down on the floor, pretending he’d just taken a punch. James cast a Silencing Charm on the dormitory door when a louder riff started playing. Peter yawned and propped up his chin. Sirius felt as though he was being undressed slowly by disembodied hands, pulling his torso and tendons deep into the carpeting, until he sank to the bottom. His scalp felt cold and empty. Tepid lips kissed his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Padfoot.” Remus whispered. 

Sirius smiled. “Night, Moony. Love you.” It had come out sounding hoarse, as if Sirius had a sore throat. The air was warmer; moonlight bled through the crimson curtains. As Remus drew his hangings shut, Sirius clicked his tongue. His own lips were dry and cracked. James made an exhaling noise. Peter’s mouth hung open gormlessly. Perhaps he had nodded off. Sirius’ cheek tingled and he smelt rust. The carpeting grazed his feet. He touched James’ shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got Firewhisky in my trunk.”

“Amazing.”

“Nicked them from Mother. I think Reg saw me, but fuck it. I’ve frozen them-“

“It’s _Fire_ whisky, mate. It’s still going to burn even after it thaws.”

Sirius fetched two chilled bottles. Under the moonlight, the liquid bore a metallic sheen; an almost uncomfortable resemblance to unicorn blood. He handed one to James while he opened the other. “What’s the occasion?” yawned Peter. 

The song playing on the record ended and another started. The firecracker silence in the boys was interrupted by a crooning love song. Remus came to Sirius’ mind instantly, smiling shyly. 

“We don’t need an occasion.”

Sirius took a gulp. The heat rushed into his head and gullet, singed behind his eyes. It turned his mouth sticky and sour. He wasn’t sure if smoke fumes would emerge if he exhaled. Fever kindled in his stomach and swept. It was like being in a bath with water that was heating up too quickly. 

_“Merlin!”_ Sirius coughed. James and Peter thumped him on the back. Sirius burst out laughing. “It’s horrid.”

Peter went next and started wheezing between sips, but stopped before James or Sirius could reach him. He set the bottle down and rubbed his eyes. James swigged the Firewhisky bravely. Then he gagged; tears formed in the corner of his eyes. His glasses fogged up and he thrust both bottles back at Sirius, swearing and groaning. 

“Don’t wake Moony-“

Peter cut the record off halfway and slid the disc back into its holder, much to the protest of James. Sirius tucked the unopened bottle back into his trunk. The smell of rust had mysteriously vanished. James was knocked out cold the second he crawled onto his bed. Peter kicked off his blankets and fell asleep quickly. 

Sirius, however, lay under the covers with his eyes wide open, a phantom of heat taking refuge in his body. The now half-empty bottle of Firewhisky was still chilly under his foot. The unrelenting moonlight washed over the dorm, casting large shadows of the trees outside on the floor, until nearly every inch of the carpeting was covered with wood and half-eaten leaves. The spot where the record player had been remained clear. 

Sirius sat up, staring at the white patch. How had the songs gone again? All he could recall was the tune that had made them feel unwanted (Ironically, the song's lyrics had been a repetition of “I want you”). He hummed it, not entirely sure if he was even remembering it correctly. Sirius felt fed up all of a sudden. He reached for the bottle at his feet and downed everything that was left. 

Dynamite might as well have gone off in Sirius’ insides. His saliva turned into acid. Hot waves shot down his throat. His eyes were big and felt as though they were melting scoops of ice-cream. He had begun to cry. He didn’t remember the heavy tune, or the love song that made him think of Remus. Oh Merlin, he was sure to be sloshed out of his mind tomorrow. His face was sweaty and the heat had gone down his legs. He glanced at the white patch where the record player had been. He could see the disc whirling on the turntable, the music walking up to his bed with outstretched arms to pick him up for another dance-

Sirius clicked his tongue at it and went out like a light. 

He woke up just as abruptly. Sirius felt sticky and warm. The sun was supposed to be rising soon, but the glow of the moon was still steadfastly seizing the dorm. He couldn’t quite open his eyes. They had gone to bed late. Had he slept into the next night and missed a whole day of lessons? His head hurt, but his scalp no longer felt cold. If he _had_ missed an entire day of his life, he may as well move on and get some sleep before the next one. 

Sirius turned to lie on his side. The hangings on Remus’ four-poster was open. Remus closed his hangings every night without fail, no matter how tired he was. Illuminated by the moonlight streaking through the window next to him, Remus’ lovely silhouette came into view at the foot of the bed, and Sirius smiled as he pushed himself up.

Then his breath came to a halt. Remus was clothed in only briefs, staring out the window. He sat between his bent knees, legs splayed on either side of him, the soft soles of his feet tucked under. He hugged himself, fingers over the scars on the sides of his waist. Sirius remembered the time he kissed them and sent Remus into a giggling fit. Remus now tilted his head sideways, as if in a trance. 

“Remus?”

Remus slowly turned his head to face Sirius, still holding himself. He was expressionless; eyes wide, showing no signs of sleepiness. The smell of rust appeared in the air once more and stung Sirius, but he was too bewildered to mind. Remus looked undefiled and faultless and this made Sirius feel conspiratorial.

“Are you okay? Is anything wrong-“

Sirius jumped a bit as Remus crawled off his bed silently and climbed into his. The blankets did not rustle and his footsteps had been absolutely soundless. He sat down in the same position from earlier. For a moment, Remus could have passed off easily as a ghost. But there were dents from where Remus sat on the mattress, and he was close enough for Sirius to hear him breathing. Remus inched forwards and hugged Sirius. His chin rubbed the side of Sirius’ neck; Sirius’ knee bumped Remus’ thigh. Sirius slid his hands around the middle of Remus’ back and pulled him closer, smiling to himself. 

Just as he did, Remus started panting, but Sirius didn’t hear at first. Sirius only noticed when Remus put distance between them by gripping Sirius’ shoulders urgently. He looked panicked and afraid, like a child lost in the dark. His mouth opened with difficulty, breathing cragged and desperate. The skin under his eyes turned puffy, though he had shed no tears. Sirius couldn’t help noticing that Remus’ lips seemed redder. His grip on Remus tightened, squeezing a sudden moan from him. Sirius inhaled sharply at the sound.

“Moony-“

In a split second of calm, Remus fell silent again. He leaned forward and kissed Sirius’ lips. It was very controlled and tender, and nothing was rushed. Sirius and Remus always pecked each other quickly, even when they were alone. The long kisses were saved for fingers and foreheads. Remus moved closer as Sirius gently caressed his lower back. Sirius kicked his blankets to the floor to make room.

Remus seemed awfully eager and more awake than usual. He kept leaning in to kiss Sirius even after he had pulled away, but Sirius didn’t mind. Sirius realised that Remus’ hair was wet. The air hadn’t been warm enough to make them sweat, it was as if Remus had dunked his head in a water basin. 

After a while, Remus pulled away, inhaling deeply and quietly exhaling into Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius felt sleepy, but pumped full of high. He pressed a final kiss to Remus’ forehead. Remus stood up and headed for the window, hands brushing against the curtains. The moonlight had grown dimmer, hints of light smeared through the glass. His briefs were hanging off his hips lopsidedly, and he had resumed his expressionless glance out the window. The air around him was pure, rusty vulnerability. 

Sirius laid down and fixed on Remus, taking in the silence. The heat rushed back into his head and it turned heavy, hangover settling in. Sirius groaned and rubbed his eyes. 

When he stopped, Remus was gone and the curtains were still. He turned to his side. The hangings on Remus’ four-poster was shut tight, the creases in the fabric untouched, exactly as they had been last night. 

Across the room, James let out a snore. Or perhaps it had been Peter. His blankets were pooled in a heap on the floor, his bed bare except for the half-empty bottle of Firewhisky at his feet, which was still chilled.


	2. Verisimilitude is Not My Friend, A Major

Sirius held the bottle in front of his face and swung it as if it were a pendulum. The shiny brown alcohol swished around, the sound almost reminiscent of a cracked church bell. He hadn’t drunk any at all when he got into bed. The night had certainly _not_ been a mere, lovely drunken fantasy.

Daylight slowly streamed through the curtains, calmly deforesting the shadows of the trees on the floor. Sirius sat up and placed the bottle on top of his trunk, smiling as he remembered the warmth of Remus’ breath against his shoulder. He couldn’t remember any other time they had embraced or kissed each other like they had: everything about Remus was chaste.

There was nothing chaste about the moan he made. Sirius felt a jolt in his heart when he heard it, and now it would lay itself to rest in his memories. But he also felt strangely satisfied by that jolt. It was like a reassuring pat on the back. His head was lighter. The sound had frightened him, but he yearned to hear it again.

The hangings on Remus' four poster rustled and he emerged, fully clothed. He yawned and smacked his lips, which were now a quiet tint of pink. Sirius leaned off his bed and picked up his blankets when Remus sat up. The never-ending kiss and the moan blew up behind his eyes and made him gulp. _Oh Merlin-_

“Morning, love. How did you sleep?” He draped the blankets over his shoulder, trying to stay cool.

Remus smiled at being called love. “Good morning, Sirius. I slept alright. I think I had a dream, but I don’t really remember much of it.”

“I had a dream, too! At least I thought it was; I just realised that it _actually_ happened!” Sirius laughed, looked Remus in the eye, and waggled his eyebrows once. “I remember _all_ of it. It was _brilliant._ Smashing.”

Remus didn’t take the hint. “Really? What happened?”

“Well, uh, you were there; you came over and sat down with me for ages. Does that ring a bell?”

“This happened… during the night?”

“Yes, don’t you remember? You were here and we kissed for really long-“

“But I’ve been asleep all night.”

Sirius drew back. “What?”

“I’ve been asleep all night. Eyes shut tight.”

The image of Remus leaning back in to kiss him came up in his mind. Remus’ eyes were wide open, making an inaudible plea- _Kiss me, please. I need you to kiss me._ He had also panted madly; the skin under his eyes swelled and he looked as if he were about to cry. Nobody could have that kind of reaction while they were asleep with their _eyes shut tight._

Unless they were having a remarkably realistic dream, of course. But nothing about the night felt anything like a dream. He had felt the weight of arms and lips, heard him breathing, and the moan. There was no mistaking that and there was no substitute for it.  
_It had been real._

“I-I must have been dreaming, then.” Sirius laughed. It came out sounding half-hearted and awkward. “I’m sorry, Moony. Guess I just went crazy for the night.”

Remus mistook this for embarrassment. He went up to Sirius, cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. Sirius closed his eyes and sighed as the familiar tipsiness of love spread into him.

“You’re already crazy.” Remus said. “And I love you.”

“I love you too.”

_I was awake. It actually happened and I was not dreaming. You were awake too._

* * *

 

Sirius started feeling less awake when he received his timetable at breakfast. He blamed it on the Firewhisky. Why was Remus acting like the night hadn’t happened? Sirius saw Remus’ near-naked body and red lips whenever he tried to concentrate on eating his eggs. They looked too much like eyes. The yolks would blink and burst into sobs any second.

Remus had finished his food first and left for the dorm to get his books. Sirius stabbed one of the yolks with his fork, the metal making a scathing plink as it scratched the plate.

James and Peter stared at him across the table.

“What’s up, Pads? You’re not your usual self.” said James, pushing his plate to the side.

Peter did the same. “Did you have a fight with Moony?”

Sirius removed his fork from the bleeding yolk. “No. It’s just that I want to tell him something, but, well, I’m afraid he won’t like it.” Sirius didn’t mention that he wouldn’t particularly like it either. The thought of telling Remus about the wonderful aching moan made him want to pee.

James suddenly shot up and slammed both his hands on the table, making them both flinch.

“You aren’t thinking of _breaking up!”_ he whispered in a rushed tone, as if it was forbidden to talk of such matters. Peter gasped dramatically.

Sirius looked scandalised. “Bloody hell, I would _never!_ What do you take me for, Prongs?”

James apologised and sat back down. Sirius’ yolk had gone runny and flooded over the egg whites, like blood gushing from a dying man. Sirius looked at it blankly. The yolk was now flat and punctured and would never be the same again.

Peter scratched his neck. “Why don’t you just tell him? You won’t know for _sure_ unless you do.”

Sirius stared at Peter as if he’d suggested licking Remus’ privates.


	3. Bloodshed Lineup, G Major

_"Padfoot! McGonagall's calling on you!"_

Sirius bolted upright in his seat and his hair fell over his face. Professor McGonagall was reading aloud from a planner, facing the students seated opposite them. Sirius scowled at James and punched him in the arm.

"Merlin, somebody is sleepy today," James chuckled. "You've got bags under your eyes."

Sirius smirked wickedly and tossed his hair over his shoulder. "They're designer."

"Ooh! How posh!"

"Oh, ha ha ha."

Professor McGonagall closed her planner and set it on her desk. "...and those topics will be covered in our Transfiguration syllabus this year. Now, if there are no questions, we shall get right on to our first topic. Any questions?"

A chorus of "no". Professor McGonagall clasped her hands and nodded. "Excellent.

"Our first topic is on... shall we call it, a truly unorthodox phenomenon in Transfiguration. I would like you all to take note of this, not only because it will be tested-" James groaned "- but you may just encounter it yourselves, and thus be prepared to handle it. It is called the Replica Illusion."

Peter's hand shot up. "But Professor, wouldn't that just make it the same thing as the Doubling Charm?"

"The Doubling Charm can only be cast on _inanimate_ objects, Mr. Pettigrew. The first thing to know about the Replica Illusion is that you cannot produce it with a wand. Would anyone like to tell us why?"

Lily Evans raised her hand. "That's because it isn't a spell. It's produced from a wizard's or witch's strong emotions."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Correct. Five points to Gryffindor. When a wizard or witch has intense, visceral emotions about another person, these emotions may... get out of hand. They transform and manifest into an _exact_ physical copy of this said person."

A few murmurs, most of which were intrigued. Suppressed giggles came from some. Sirius covered his mouth and let out a jaw-dislocating yawn. He would die of fatigue before boredom killed him. He spied Remus next to Peter, quill in hand and scribbling away. Sirius found himself entranced and puzzled. Remus had always been a horrible liar, but was doing an utterly convincing job of pretending he hadn't done anything. There was something about the night itself he now couldn't put his finger on. He rubbed his eyes and tried to make himself pay attention.

"...the copy created, however, is not faithful to its original. In fact, the Replica Illusion creates an _idealised_ version of that person in the wizard or witch's eyes. For example, if you were to have strong sentiments about a person whom you wished was... perhaps, better-looking-" there were snorts of laughter in the class "-the copy of that person would look just the way you wanted them to. Any questions?"

James, now very interested, raised his hand. "Is there a way to tell if somebody's a copy? Have they got telltale signs or anything?"

Professor McGonagall put her hand up for silence. "Yes Mr. Potter, but they are not telltale. History notes silence as an identifier, but it may not apply to all cases. The surefire way of confirming a Replica Illusion is to see the same person in two places at once."

"Wow."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Now, if you would kindly wake Mr. Black up and tell him to see me after class."

James turned and saw Sirius fast asleep on the desk. He caught sight of Peter laughing quietly and Remus rolling his eyes.

* * *

 

Sirius reemerged at dinner, tie undone and dazed. He grabbed Remus' hand and kissed it as he sat down.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked, looking up from his book.

"Fine. McGonagall wants an essay on the Replication thing in two days."

"How sweet, she's letting you sleep tonight."

"I'm not gonna sleep tonight," Sirius smiled wickedly. "I'm gonna lie by myself and-"

"Ah ah ah! No funny business until you've eaten, Sirius!" James interjected, shaking his spoon at him.

* * *

 

The energy of their first day back erased itself quickly. The moon had risen by the time they had gotten back to the dorm, and covered the floor under a thick sheet of shadows, bathing everything else in weak silver grey. Sirius refused to write his essay ("It can wait, I've got two damn days!") and accompanied Remus, who had decided to turn in early. He stood guard on the outside of the hangings. James and Peter had moved to the common room with the Beatles record. A great silence filled the dorm and the air smelt like a different place. It was a windy night, and the gusts pushed the branches against the glass of the window. They were like strangers knocking on the door to seek shelter from the weather, and perhaps a hot Butterbeer. Sirius stared at them, wondering if they'd accept Firewhisky instead.

There had been a full moon the night prior to the departure of the Hogwarts Express, which Remus had endured alone. Sirius, James and Peter bought him chocolate from the trolley when they were on the train. Sirius held him through the entire journey, lips brushing over his temple. Remus had fallen asleep crying in Sirius' arms.

Sirius realised that he was in front of the window and had a hand covering half his face. He felt incredibly deeply for Remus, and in that moment he felt the floor under his feet disappear and he was left with an uncertain, sinking feeling in the pits of his belly. Left hanging in mid-air, he was about to drop any second now and scream. Their pain was shared- Remus would scratch himself and Sirius would see the graze on his own body. He curled his hand into a fist against his eye.

In the moonlight, Remus' four-poster resembled a tomb of some sort- the bold crimson velvet was now light gossamer grey; easy to penetrate and cut through. But it was not fragile. Remus was asleep in there, flowing with raw, dangerous life.

Sirius remembers seeing Remus' blood: smeared on the walls of the shack, on the sheets of the bed, and mingled with the dust on the floor. Redder than Gryffindor's scarlet and angrier than the setting sun. Sirius cradled Remus against the shack bedpost after a particularly bad full moon in third year, and Remus hugged Sirius back with a fierceness that knocked the wind out of the both of them.

"Someday," Remus murmured into Sirius' shoulder, "I'm going to scratch myself across the face. And that will be it."

"No, it won't."

"Yes, it will."

"I'd still love you."

"You've said that so many times."

Sirius swiftly smoothed his thumb over Remus' mouth and kissed him. Remus gasped and pulled back sharply.

"No, what if I get blood on you-"

Sirius brought up his other hand for Remus to see. The lines of Sirius' palm were slimy, with faint trickles of diluted red going down his wrist. He'd pressed a hand directly over one of Remus' wounds.

"Oh." Remus smiled wanly. His smile remained when Sirius pressed his lips on Remus' again. 

* * *

 

Sirius hoisted himself onto the windowsill, not taking his eyes off Remus' four-poster. It was still fairly early into the night. The smell of rust reappeared and the vague sound of the heavy I-Want-You song wafted through the air. He was reminded of the Firewhisky he'd chugged dry because he thought he had forgotten the tune.

Except that he _hadn't,_ the damn bottle was still half-empty in the morning. _James_ had been the last person to drink from that bottle, not him. Perhaps Sirius had merely dreamt about drinking it all in bed, but the hot sensations from it had lit his insides on fire. Had he imagined it all? Perhaps the heat he'd felt in his throat and head were just his own perceptions of what it would feel like. It seemed most likely.


	4. Arpeggio for Lovers, C Minor

The smell of rust lingered in the dorm, even long after Sirius had opened the window. He hadn't minded very much at first, but it was getting stronger and it was prickling his nose. He slid off the windowsill, watching Remus' four-poster devotedly, and moved to the center of the dorm.

The smell was just as intense there. There didn't seem to be a source of it, and if there was, it was probably concealed or hidden away out of sight. He wondered if it was in one of their trunks, ready to jump out any moment and swallow him whole. 

Sirius turned back to the windowsill and to watching over Remus, but stopped dead. He blinked once and gasped, but heard nothing coming out of his mouth.

Remus, who was supposed to be asleep behind the closed hangings of the four-poster next to his, was in  _Sirius'_  bed, clothed only in the same briefs as last night. He laid face-up, bare legs together over Sirius' blankets, hands crossed over the jagged marks on his chest. He looked asleep, and probably was, but was so unsettlingly still. There was not a single rising movement from his chest, not even when Sirius moved to the bedside to get a closer look.

It was an agonisingly peaceful sight. Sirius' breath hitched and uncertainty bundled itself in his belly again. He took Remus' hands in his own and nearly dropped them- Remus' hands were lacking their familiar warmth. But they weren't ice either. Sirius couldn't feel anything as he touched Remus' palms. It didn't even feel like  _hands_. He could see the flesh and the shape of Remus' fingers; fingers he loved so much and kissed every chance he got, but now they felt like air. It was as if somebody had given him an gilt ribbon-wrapped empty box for his birthday. There was a lurch of stabbing loss in his heart.

_Had it been like this last night? No, I could feel it. I could feel hands holding me. Something solid kissed me and I kissed that solid something back-_

Remus' eyes flew open. This startled Sirius into a gasp, one that he could hear this time. Remus stared at him silently, blinking every few seconds, as if waiting for something to happen.  _But what was supposed to happen?_ Sirius blinked back once, and then heaved a sigh of relief. Remus really had just been asleep after all. He let out a chuckle.

"Oh, Moony. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Remus didn't respond. He blinked again, looking up at Sirius expressionlessly. The dorm suddenly went completely silent, free of background noise- the indistinct muggle music from the common room downstairs was cut off mid-note and the trees outside froze. Sirius gulped. It was like being trapped in a dark, airless space at the bottom of nowhere and there wasn't any way out. He wasn't used to feeling awkward, and a whole lot of it was now cradled in his hands. 

"Remus," Sirius continued, almost shakily, trying to lighten the mood, "Are you alright?"

Remus waited a while before blinking again, and clasped Sirius' hands back. The sudden firm feeling sent another jolt to his heart. Remus' hands no longer felt like air.

_Alright, he's solid now. What is this?_

Sirius sat down on the edge of his bed, still holding both of Remus' hands. At this, Remus sat up and tucked his legs under him in a languid kneel, as if to make room. Sirius glanced sideways as he moved to face Remus. The air remained deafeningly silent, and for once, he absolutely hated it. It was scaring him. What he would give for James and Peter to walk in on them now, blasting that muggle music. Anything to stop this dicey feeling he never thought he'd have while with his lovely, near-naked Remus. He had always pictured the both of them laughing in a situation like this.

Sirius chuckled again to break the silence. "So, uh... when did you decide to come here? I thought you were already asleep."

No response. Remus didn't even blink.

"N-not that I'm against it, of course! It's just, well, I was watching over your bed," said Sirius, motioning at Remus' four-poster. "I thought I would've seen you-"

Remus slid his hands from the grasp and placed them on Sirius' hips. 

"-move." Sirius now held nothing in particular, unable to look away from the fingers gently tracing his hip bones. Remus' expressionless gaze fixed on Sirius, still saying nothing.

Sirius' lips went dry. He couldn't meet Remus' gaze for some reason. Something about this was strange; _very_ strange. They had just touched each other last night- and Remus stayed mute throughout. He wouldn't answer Sirius back and his hands may as well have been nonexistent. _What is this?_

The rusty smell of the air permeated Sirius. There would be rust on his fingers, in his eyes, deep into his mouth and down his gullet and stomach and intestines and come out between his legs. Remus would get rust on his lips if he undressed Sirius now and kissed him there. 

Remus brushed his lips against Sirius' clothed shoulder, his hands now working their way up his lower back. 

"Wait, wait!" exclaimed Sirius. Remus drew back slowly and blinked once, still silent. 

Sirius closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The rust made him feel surprisingly light and giddy, something the Firewhisky had failed to do. This would not be any sort of drink-induced dream, and he was going to get proof.

Sirius pulled the neckline of his shirt down, exposing his shoulder. He put his arms around Remus' neck, bare skin enticingly displayed just in front of them both.

"Okay. Go on."

Remus tilted his head to the side. Sirius noticed that Remus' lips were redder again. He closed his eyes and shivered as Remus kissed and bit his shoulder. He had expected to scream or wince at this, but there was hardly anything to scream or wince for. It was like their never-ending kiss the night before- calm, soft, and full of affection, enough to make Sirius weep. He felt as if he might pass out in Remus' arms.

Sirius felt tears in his eyes when Remus crawled in between his legs and kissed his jaw. The sheets scraped his thighs and most of his lower back. Remus had slid Sirius' sleeping shorts to his knees. There was sweat on Sirius' neck and his heartbeat was darting about. His head was nearly hanging off the foot of his bed. He would get turned upside-down and fall off if Remus fondled his backside any further. He kicked his blankets off the bed when Remus' fingers pulled at the band of his underwear. 

Remus' wet hair tickled his chin when he kissed the crook of his neck, making him laugh. The unease had fully dissipated. This was fine, a little silent perhaps, probably because of nerves.  _To hell with bloody nerves!_ Sirius sighed contentedly as Remus cupped his face and wiped the corners of his eyes.

Then the dorm door swung open. The wind started howling, sending branches against the window. 

"...Pete, I've decided that _Paul’s_ my favourite Beatle."

"Paul’s pretty cool. I like George best though- _oh!"_ Peter almost dropped the record player. James' mouth hung open as he eyed a ruffled-looking Sirius with half his bum popping out. 

Sirius grinned at them wickedly, and then turned back to Remus, but he had vanished. It was Sirius' turn to blink rapidly. He grabbed at the sheets where Remus had just been, but came up with only fistfuls of air. The smell of rust had gone. James burst out laughing.

"Oh _Merlin_ , Sirius! I didn't think you _meant_ it when you said you were gonna lie by yourself and-"

"I- I didn't! Lie by myself, that is-" 

"Are you looking for something? Do you need light?" asked Peter, producing his wand. " _Lumos._ "

"No, Pete-"

"Wait, hold still, you've got something on you." said James, tugging at Sirius' arm to get a closer look. Peter brought his lighted wand closer. There was a faint red mark on Sirius' shoulder. James and Peter wowed in awe. 

"Did Moony give you that?" asked James, sounding impressed. "I thought he went to bed. We all told him goodnight."

"Yes! Me too!" replied Sirius, still confused and giddy. "I don't understand! He came to _my_ bed, and, uh, now he's just... _gone,_ like smoke!"

"No he's not, he's right here!" Peter declared loudly, pulling one of Remus' hangings open. Sure enough, Remus' sleeping face came into view, fully clothed and hugging his blankets. Sirius could only gawk speechlessly. James patted his arm.

Remus began to stir at Peter's wandlight, but he simply grunted and turned to his other side. 


	5. Waning Gibbous Smile, E Minor

Sirius did not sleep a wink. He was afraid of having dreams. James had lent him a towel- “for cleaning yourself up,”- he’d said with a good-natured chuckle, but there wasn’t anything to clean up except for the beads of sweat on his collarbone and the small tears in his eyes.

Confusion and frustration stampeded his mind as if it were a charging army on the battlefield, making him shiver. It felt like a form of shell-shock. He hadn’t touched his clothes. His sleeping shorts were now strung up at his calves, his underwear hanging off only one hip. He grabbed the butt cheek that Remus had so lovingly stroked, as if looking for a sign that could prove it had happened. There was nothing. 

He pressed down on the miniscule bite on his shoulder. Sirius couldn’t help thinking that it was supposed to be bigger and hurt more. He pulled the neckline of his shirt back up with a sigh; covering the mark, picked up his blankets and flopped his head down on the pillow. A wave of shuddering embarrassment washed over him then, drenching him again. 

He tried hard not to think about it, but what would have happened if Remus had stripped him naked right there on the bed? What if he’d kissed  _every_  inch of his bare body, and then turned him over and took him from behind? It was an exciting thought, but equally frightening. He was sure he’d yelp, scream, curse, and weep in joyful pain, all in the space of a few minutes. It was vulnerable and nauseous. Sirius felt self-conscious all of a sudden. The very idea of sex was humiliatingly heavenly.

At family dinners and galas, after a hearty helping of fine wine, his older relatives would usually start about their various exploits in the bedroom. They confessed that they all made love in different ways, but it always,  _definitely_  hurt. One of his cousins proudly announced that she had been unable to walk for  _two_  days after her very eventful wedding night. One of his uncles attributed his hoarse voice as a result of moaning too loudly. Sirius usually found these stories fascinating and stayed to listen. Regulus would call him a pervert and run upstairs, pretending he was deaf. 

Thus, Sirius had believed that sex would cause physical pain. But he just couldn’t imagine how he could be in pain if he were to do it with Remus. He had never once believed that they would be a pair for mindless shagging, they were better than that-  _Remus_ was worth more than that. They would both put their whole hearts into it. 

Sirius glanced at Remus’ four-poster from where he lay, and images of a silent unyielding Remus with hooded eyelids and hands made of air clouded his eyes. Silent, unyielding Remus holding him down with no real force, hand that faded and solidified on his arse, and red lips on his shoulder.

* * *

At breakfast, Sirius could barely keep his eyes open. He stared at his bacon half-heartedly, as if it owed him money, but didn't really mind whether it paid up or not. Across him, Remus was helping Peter with his Charms homework. James had snuck off to chat up Lily Evans. The morning had taken its time to show up. It was only the second day into the new semester and Sirius was already feeling hounded by the nights. 

Peter finished his last question, thanked Remus, and got up. Remus reached over and placed a hand over Sirius' knuckles, startling him a bit.

"You didn't sleep." he observed. 

Sirius just stared at their hands. "No. Well... yes." For the first time, he wished for Remus to  _not_  to look him in the eye.

Sirius' insides hitched when Remus sighed. Remus leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Sirius looked up, and Remus was smiling. 

"Oh Padfoot, what am I going to do with you?"

* * *

Sirius was positive that he hadn't heard a word of his lessons. He spent the day feeling uncharacteristically bumbled, sleepy, and outright flustered. He would start thinking about the previous night without warning and nearly draw blood from biting his bottom lip. He let out a sharp whimper in Potions, scaring the living daylights out of James, causing him to drop the entire container of dragon scales into the cauldron. 

Again, absolutely hounded. 

* * *

The day passed far too quickly. It was as if somebody had mucked up with a Time Turner somehow and now everything was shifting fast forward. Seconds, minutes and hours had never felt so completely disregarded. Sirius, sitting up on the windowsill again, stared at the pink-yellow sky. He'd spent the entire day thinking about Remus. The nights had been real and they stirred something in him- it was as if he had gotten new clothes, worn them for the first time, and believed he looked lovely.

_Oh Remus. I love your smile. I love when you kiss me. I love when you show up in my bed, in only your underwear, make me sweat, and then you disappear-_

Peter put the Beatles record on again so he and James could play air-guitar. The I-Want-You song started up and reverberated through the dorm. Sirius felt a shudder down his back. This song had been the last thing he’d heard last night, before it was cut silent and Remus started kissing his shoulder. The lyrics made so much sense now, as if they had been written specially for him in that very moment. He curled himself up, trying to hang on to every word. At least it wasn’t silence. He wanted to talk to Remus and he wanted Remus to respond. But how was Remus supposed to respond?

 _Why don’t you just tell him?_ Peter had said. _You won’t know for_ _sure_ _unless you do._

What had happened in those nights? The more he thought about them, the hazier his image became. Almost as if he hadn’t really been there at all; illusory, induced by hormones and Firewhisky. 

Sirius got up and uncorked the half-empty bottle of Firewhisky from the top of his trunk. Then he opened the window, took a tentative sip, and poured the rest out.

Under the dim sunlight, the falling Firewhisky looked like a stream of urine. With the music in the background, it was like being in a restroom at a rock show venue. Sirius watched as it cascaded, a strange feeling of ease upon him. He took one last look at the posh bottle, and subsequently flung it out the window. He shut the window, turned as it fell, and left the dorm.

Remus was in one of the common room’s armchairs, hunched over a book. Sirius took a deep breath as he sat next to him. A lot of words were flying through his mind, but none of them formed sentences. It was a babbling, sobby, love-ridden mess. If this was how talking about adult things was like, Sirius hoped he wouldn’t have to do it often.

“Remus, Ihavesomethingtotellyou.” he mumbled.

“What is it?” Remus asked, looking up slightly.

“Remember when I had that…uh,  _dream_  where we, well, kissed for really long but I thought it was real?”

Remus chuckled. “Yes. And?”

“Well, you see-“

_You looked so lovely. Your moan was the most beautiful music. Your lips were so red, I nearly lost my mind-_

None of that came out of Sirius’ mouth. He felt his face heat up as he stared at the carpet. He tried very hard not to notice that their knees were bumping.

“It was… funny really, but, uh, I…”

Remus shut his book with another quiet chuckle. “Did you want it to really happen?”

“Wha-what-“

“You dreamt about it. Do you want  _really_  want to kiss for long?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Sirius kicked himself.

“Alright,” said Remus, putting his book aside. He took one of Sirius’ hands and cupped his cheek gently. Sirius thought he would combust. “You have to forgive me if I muck it up.”

Sirius didn’t answer. He pressed his lips to Remus’, and his head caught alight. Remus was composed, beautiful eyes slowly closing, but Sirius could hear their heartbeats, accentuated by the stillness of the common room. The entwine of their fingers was barely there when Remus shifted slightly. Comfort settled in the both of them, and Sirius’ heart nearly stopped when he felt Remus smiling into their kiss.

The sound of Remus’ breathing was soft and wonderful. Their foreheads were together. Sirius held him close, an attempt to ensure that he stayed solid. Remus was small and ever so gentle in his arms.

“Marry me, Remus.”

“We can’t marry. We’re fourteen. You won’t be saying that in three years-”

“I won’t have to if I say it now.”

Remus laughed, head thrown back a bit. “Oh! But what if I were to turn you down?”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “You wouldn’t!”

“No, no...” Remus leaned in, words lost into another kiss, and Sirius melted. Remus’ smile reached through his ribs and ran its fingers softly over his heart. 

* * *

Sirius trudged over to the nearest table, slamming his Transfiguration book down center. "Fucking essay!  _Motherfucking_  essay! Of course I had to forget-" 

 _"Have fun, Pads!"_  sang James as he ran past, whirling his Quidditch jersey around like a lasso. Sirius stabbed the parchment with his quill and let out a huge groan. 

"Bugger off!"

James turned and stuck his tongue out at him on his way up the stairs. He dashed into the dorm before Sirius could throw his wand at him.

They'd had dinner less than an hour ago and it was still fairly early. He decided to just get it over with, and then go back up to sleep- properly. There was no way anything would keep him awake tonight. All he had to do was to write.

Sirius opened his book, sank into his chair, and dozed off.

He let out a yelp when he woke up, nearly spilling his ink. Sirius rubbed his eyes and swore. He had admittedly been so confused about things lately and couldn't tell if he was dreaming. It wouldn't even have surprised him if he'd woken up and found himself on the Shack floor. 

He noticed his parchment and book at last, and realised that he hadn't even started writing. And what was he supposed to be writing about? He scowled as he leafed through the pages and stopped at a section. Ah, yes, _The Replica Illusion._

Something moved in the corner of his eyes. But when Sirius darted up, but there was nothing except the light from lamps and a moonlit window. He stared at it, almost marvelling- a waning gibbous moon, the first phase that meant that Remus' danger was over for now. It was like a street sign that he was relieved to find after losing his way. Sirius leaned over his book, and suddenly screwed up his eyes. The moon turned unnaturally bright, so grey that it was a spike of blinding white. Sirius dared himself to look on. It seemed important somehow. He would miss it if he went back to sleep now. 

And then Remus walked past the window, body thoroughly bare except for his briefs, red lips slightly parted in an expressionless trance. 


	6. I Swear, If They Don't Wake Up Now-

Sirius gasped. What the fuck?

"Remus! What are you-"

Remus came to a halt and turned his head sideways, meeting Sirius' eyes. Sirius felt his legs back up into the chair, but his top half leaning forwards. 

"Moony, what- where are you going?" asked Sirius. These dreams were really getting out of hand. He hadn't even gotten into bed. 

It was a while before Remus responded with another blink. He promptly turned and headed for the portrait hole. Sirius snatched up his wand and scrambled out of his chair.

"Moony, I don't know how you don't know this, but you're nearly _starkers!"_ said Sirius in a fluster, eyeing Remus' bare back. He'd made one of his life goals to kiss every scar on it one day. Remus didn't appear to have heard him. He swung the portrait open and stepped out, still in a trance. Sirius stumbled out after him. His foot caught the edge of the hole and he tripped, but barely felt anything as he watched Remus saunter down the corridor. Remus had his hands behind his back, his fingers entwining. His footsteps did not make a sound. 

Sirius caught up with Remus quickly, but did not dare to grab his hand or shoulders. He had a suspiscion and a fear that they would not be solid. They paced side-by-side, as if they were just two people enjoying a midnight stroll and each other's company.

Every inch of Remus was visible in the lit corridor: pearl scars, mended patches of skin, and traces of previously broken blood vessels. All of them came out tonight, and formed only for Sirius' eyes. He had never felt more honoured. Sirius didn't ask Remus any more questions as they walked down stairs and turned corners, preferring to just let things be for now. After all, this was a dream, wasn't it? 

When Remus stepped out of the castle, Sirius pinched himself. There was a sting, but none of it registered. However, it seemed to make perfect sense. Sirius felt so in love with Remus at the moment, he found himself wanting to watch everything that Remus wanted to do. 

Remus headed towards the bank of the Great Lake, and stood with his toes almost too close to the edge, waded in swaying dark weeds and uneven grass. The winds swept at the both of them, tossing around their hair, as if trying to slow dance together. Remus stared across the Lake at nothing in particular, unblinking and quietly still. 

The waning gibbous moon hung directly above the Lake. Sirius had not looked at it since. Everything the moonbeams struck would glow and seem beautiful than it was, even the grey-black murk of the Lake water and the Forbidden Forest. It looked an absolute wonderland of melancholia and the unknown, opening its arms to welcome them to sleep in. But Remus was already beautiful, even with the blank look on his face. Under the moonlight, he looked as if he had just had a private weep and was trying to sort out his feelings. Sirius wanted to kiss his eyelids. 

Sirius stood next to Remus. Remus reached over and took Sirius' hand in his. The touch was solid. Sirius felt a touch in his heart and weight lift off him. 

"Moony," Sirius began, "I have something to tell you."

Remus slowly turned his head to face Sirius. Sirius took Remus' other hand and gently smoothed his knuckles.

"I didn't say this earlier, when we, well... you know." Sirius didn't know what exactly he meant by "earlier". The first night with the moan? The second in his bed with the bite on his shoulder? When they had been together in the common room just now? It somehow seemed better to let that stay open.

" _I love you._ I really, really do. You said I wouldn't be proposing to you in another three years, but believe me, I _would_. I'd ask every day. Every everything. I want you, Remus."

Remus' expression remained, but he blinked twice. His eyes were fully open now, the skin under them nearly as red as his lips. 

"You're important to me, to James, and even ol' Pete's crazy about you, no matter what happens."

Remus didn't look away. Their grip on each other tightened.

"And sometimes I love you so much, I don't know what to do with you." Sirius chuckled easily, voice quiet as the air. He pecked Remus' lips and the air grew warmer. Remus held him closer, hands finding their way up Sirius' underclothes. He'd taken to wearing them under his school uniform this year and hadn't changed. Sirius' breath hitched and he let out a breathier gasp than usual when Remus' fingers traced his back through his undershirt. 

* * *

It took a teasingly long time for Remus to undress him, slipping each button free one by one. Sirius trembled under the slightest of touches. He tossed his trousers aside with his wand and nearly came when a sudden gust of wind howled around him. It had died down a second later, sending blood up their faces and accentuating their pulses. Remus threw his head back, stretched his hands to the sides, and time stopped. 

Sirius, still clad in his underclothes, pinned Remus on the grass and caressed his lovely arse. He kissed Remus' forehead sweetly, before trailing down to his red lips, jaw, and the center of his neck. The silence was broken at last with unrestrained panting and a loud moan when Sirius kissed in between Remus' legs. The sound sprang happy tears to Sirius' eyes, and he started crying in earnest when Remus held him in between his thighs and rocked into him. Sirius dragged his hands and ankles through the ground, getting dirt under his fingernails and crusted over his feet. He was sure that there were mud tracks on his cheek now.

His undershirt was no longer white, and he absolutely revelled in that fact. Sirius imagined showing up at his next family gala in only these filthy clothes- underwear torn, brown-mucked undershirt hanging off one shoulder, bruised privates and dirt on his face. His drunk cousins would bow down to him. His mother would probably go into cardiac arrest. And Regulus would be sick on the spot; calling Sirius a pervert while heaving up waves of chuck. The thought was so delightful, that it made Sirius moan.  

They tumbled into a shallow part of the Lake when Sirius tried to climb on top of Remus. Sirius yelped a curse of surprise, but then sat up laughing, wrapping his arms around Remus' neck and bringing a wet kiss to his lips. Remus cupped his face and placed the most tender kiss to his forehead. There was a mixture of wet sand and mud on Sirius' knees and sticking to the insides of Remus' thighs. Sirius felt so lovely.

Remus held Sirius for a bit, gazing out to the middle of the Lake expressionlessly. Sirius decided that he didn't mind. He traced one of the scars on Remus' arm, feeling giddy and light. All the alcohol in the world could not make him feel like this. If there was, they would have bankrupted Ogden's in less than a day. Remus kissed Sirius' temple, and lingered. Sirius leaned into him, blissfully enamoured and a little sleepy. The ghost-white moon stared at them from above.

* * *

 

Remus pulled away slowly and stood up. Sirius reached to touch his calf, but Remus moved, wading into the water. Sirius waited for him to climb back up on the banks, but Remus fixed straight on the middle of the Lake, and started walking right in. 

Sirius blinked and his mouth fell open a bit. Remus was heading right for the deep end- the curve where there was no more wet sand and mud for feet to find.

"Don't go there-" Remus strode on; legs and lower body disappearing into the Lake. One more step and he would be underwater.

Sirius rose up onto his feet, his toes aching and dirty and mind in a fog. He charged behind Remus, dark water rippling and splashing around him. He could hear his own heartbeat, a heavy drumming sound that loomed in his ear. It was nothing like the drum beat of the Beatles music. Sirius reached out to grab Remus, and tipped right in. 

Sirius' first instinct was to shut his eyes. He flailed and groped around in the water for Remus, his heartbeat now frenzied and screaming swear words, the only thing he could hear apart from his own thrashing. His chest tightened painfully as water shot up his nose and filled his eyes and everything behind it. He wanted to cough, but didn't dare. It took a great effort to lift one of his legs under the water's pressure. It flattened him, striped him naked, and clawed roughly on the insides of his mouth and throat. 

And where was Remus? Had he fallen in too? Maybe he had and was also trying to signal for help. Sirius pushed himself upwards, and burst through the water's surface, panting and kicking madly. If he moved just a bit, he could latch onto the bank, but not without Remus. The water flicked at his chin and smelled of rust. His legs weren't going to last for long.

_"Remus!"_

He was nowhere in sight. He had vanished again, like smoke. Sirius' head dipped down again, coming up spluttering and coughing. There was water in his ears, the sloshing sound making him dizzy and ready to faint. Something tugged at his forearms, pulling him face-first through the surface with his eyes open.

Remus came into view, looking absolutely unaffected by the fact that they were in the middle of the Lake, underwater, and possibly about to drown. Sirius stared, scared at last. Remus didn't seem to be holding his breath. He stayed soundless and serene, beautiful eyes opened and staring.

More water rushed into Sirius' head. The rusty smell would be the death of him. If he were to drown, they would find him positively coated in it. 

"I'm dreaming." Sirius burbled, barely hearing himself speak. _"I'm dreaming."_

Remus tilted his head to the side and smiled wanly.

"Are you?"


	7. BANG ON THE KEYS TO WAKE THEM UP.

"Oh Merlin, what do we do-"

" _Sirius!_  Wake up, wake up-"

" _We need light!_ Give me some light!"

Peter shakily retrieved his wand and lit it, hurrying to James' side. Remus stepped back, shivering hands over his mouth. 

James pressed down hard on Sirius' chest, and a sputter of water burst from his mouth. Remus moved closer and Peter let out a cry.

"Stay with me Pads, you bloody wanker-" James muttered under his breath. "-Come on, please-"

James shoved into Sirius' chest with all the force he mustered. Sirius bolted upright and hacked up a whole stream of water, panting wildly before collapsing into James with his eyes frozen in place. He turned to face Remus. Remus reached for Sirius' hand, smoothing over his grimy fingernails. Sirius' face was wet and bloodless, unable to be wiped clean. His hair stuck flat onto his forehead, and he had been crying. The skin under his eyes was puffy and reddish. Remus ran his thumb over it in disbelief. It was frightening to see Sirius like this- unsettled, vulnerable, and so, so, silent. Sirius had never been silent in his life. This had to be some kind of nightmare for the both of them.

Sirius broke his gaze at Remus to let out another cough and spat on the ground. He still hadn't spoken a word. James shifted himself in front of Sirius.

"Pads, we're taking you to the hospital wing, okay?" James announced, sliding Sirius' arms on his shoulders. "Remus, help me-"

It took a while to coax Sirius' legs into standing up and then hoisting him onto James. Sirius had started shivering and James staggered under the weight, nearly falling over twice. Peter found Sirius' discarded uniform, half-soaked in the Lake. James had to walk with his back bent, and there wasn't enough room under the Cloak for them all. Remus and Peter stalked behind them on the way back. 

 "You scared us," Remus hears James whisper to Sirius when they had reached the moving stairs. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again." A faint wheeze followed.

* * *

 Madam Pomfrey nearly faints when she sees Sirius. Sirius is wrapped in a thick blanket and hunched on a bed as she prepares a hot potion for him. Remus hugs Sirius with a ferocity that nearly knocks them both over. 

"What happened?" Remus murmurs into Sirius' shoulder. "How did you end up in the Lake?"

Sirius doesn't answer. He inches himself closer. Remus is under the impression that Sirius is just as confused as they all are. He held Sirius tighter.

James and Peter joined them around the bed, staying silent. It was as if something embarrassing had happened, but they were all too ashamed to talk about it.

"Has... anyone seen my wand?" asks Sirius suddenly, startling all of them. "I think it was in my clothes."

At this, Peter fumbled about with Sirius' wet clothes, wringing them to check if a wand would fall out. There was nothing.

"Oh no, I must've dropped it!" exclaims Peter. "I'm so sorry-"

"I'll go get it," says Remus, untangling himself from Sirius and getting up. "I'll be back." 

Remus was out of the room before anybody could react. He briefly hears his name being called, but no one came after him. And what a relief: he didn't think he could last another minute in there. Why had Sirius gone walking in the middle of the night? He had been doing homework; they'd found his book in the common room. But it didn't explain much of everything else, and why he ended up dirty, dripping wet and suddenly stony, as if he had seen something truly terrible. 

Sirius was not a somnambulist, that was for sure. Remus would have known. But what if? 

* * *

 There was no sign of Sirius' wand in the castle, so Remus headed back outside. He combed the grass banks of the Lake, dipping a hand into the shallow end to check if it had fallen in. 

Something moved behind him and he turned sharply, but saw nothing except the vast dark grass and edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was very late now, perhaps one or two hours until the sun came out. A pang of sadness washed over Remus suddenly, as he considered his situation: he was a werewolf with scars all over his body, still slightly sore from three nights ago, in love, and currently searching for a wand with nothing but his worst enemy to lead his way. He found himself staring up at the moon, something he tried not to do often. It was a known fact that looking at the moon made you melancholic. And if it didn't, it would make you feel helplessly sorry for something or a longing to be loved. 

Remus turned to look at the deep end's bank instead, and fell over. 

He was looking at _himself._ He was here, near the shallow end of the Lake, dressed in pyjamas, and yet he was also _there,_ sitting cross-legged over the bank of the deep end, clothed in nothing but briefs. His body looked so different than it was in the mirror- this Remus bore an expressionless glance, but looked so peaceful and comfortable. He hugged himself, fingering the marks on the sides of his waist, looking at them almost lovingly. He did not seem to mind that his scars were on full display, highlighted by the moon. Remus watches his double, and realises that he has indeed been made into a Replica Illusion. 

 _Sirius,_ Remus thinks. 

Remus eyed his double up and down. They had all the same cracks of skin- a gash on their hands, fading streaks on their ankles, and the long jagged scar across their chests. Remus had hated that one the most. He always imagined it splitting open if he cried too hard. He felt a prickling in his eyes. Sirius' Replica Illusion of him- Sirius' _idealised_ version of him, was identical to him in every possible physical way- but this one had _accepted_ himself. 

Remus jumped when his double got up and sat next to him. It had moved so soundlessly. The double took Remus' hand slowly and placed a long stick of something in it. It was Sirius' wand.

He had never felt more beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! (And for sticking till the end). :)


End file.
